The Rules of the Game
by a unique solution
Summary: Shizuo finds himself alone on the anniversary of a tragic event he'd rather not think about, nursing a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cheap cigarettes. Except, he's not actually alone. Shizaya.


((Author's note: I had actually written this one year ago, but I got cold feet about posting it last Halloween, and upon rereading it now, I suddenly remembered why. This turned out to be a silly and somewhat hastily put-together story. It was supposed to be kind of serious, but I couldn't stop myself from adding my retarded brand of humour to it at every opportunity. Also, sorry for not editing this further; I am a little busy with other things tonight. Happy Halloween to all you strange fellows who are reading fanfics instead of partying or whatever.))

- The Rules of the Game -

A year had come and gone, slithered along at its usual pace, feeling too long at times, and yet not long enough. It was difficult to believe that the world— that everyone's lives —would simply go on, not noticing that something was amiss. There was something unnerving about how indifferent everyone seemed to be. It felt unnatural.

For Heiwajima Shizuo, nothing was ever quite the same anymore. Shizuo was never the philosophical sort; he never stopped to ponder about his place in the world, about the meaning of the things he did. But, for a whole year now, he'd felt strangely like he didn't belong here anymore. When the thought had first occurred to him, he'd brushed it away in irritation, not wanting to waste his time with such daydreaming. But again and again, Shizuo would find himself listlessly wondering why he was even bothering with whatever he was doing. What was the point of it all?

It had bothered Shizuo greatly that he had become so... strange. And had it bothered Celty too, apparently, because one night in November, she appeared at the door of his apartment, and asked him if he wanted to talk about it.

"Talk about what?" Shizuo had asked. Celty fidgeted with her phone for a long time, typing and retyping, but not actually responding, and Shizuo grew more and more annoyed. "I'm going to close the door now, Celty. Goodnight."

'Ah, no, wait!' Celty typed hastily, and Shizuo shot her an impatient glare. 'I... just thought... Well, you've been acting this way since... you know...'

"Could you get to the point already?" Shizuo grumbled.

'I thought it might help if you were able to share your feelings.' Celty explained, looking hesitant.

"What? My feelings? ... Well, I feel tired. I was about to go to sleep, but then you showed up." Shizuo replied, and Celty's shoulders slumped forward, seemingly disappointed. "What? Is that not a good enough answer?"

'Ah... I guess, if you don't want to talk, that's okay. I'm just worried about you.' Celty hung her helmet in defeat. 'Just... don't think about it too much, okay? It was hard for all of us, but... I guess I didn't expect it to affect you this much... A-ah, I'm rambling! A-anyway, goodnight, Shizuo.'

The dullahan had left in a hurry after that, and it wasn't until he had gotten into bed, exhausted and eager to fall asleep, that Shizuo would realize what Celty had meant. She had been talking about Izaya.

More specifically, about Izaya's death.

Shizuo had nearly ripped his tiny bedroom apart, furious with this realization. That was the whole reason he had been feeling so lethargic and miserable? Shizuo could not accept this.

It was true that he had been surprised, and perhaps even a little disappointed. Orihara Izaya, age 21, had jumped from the top of Sunshine 60, just five minutes before midnight on October 31st, 2012. Shizuo had watched him fall. He couldn't exactly remember the details; everything seemed to happen so quickly, and soon the paramedics had arrived, and there was a big fuss, and then there was a phone call from Shinra which he didn't answer. He had gone home a little shortly after that.

In hindsight, it was obvious that that was exactly the moment when everything had started to become a little duller around the edges, a little less colourful, a little less interesting. Shizuo hadn't been sure how he was supposed to feel about the whole affair. It had caught him off-guard. At first, Shizuo had thought he was happy. Ah, my life is going to be so much easier now, he had said to himself. But he would sometimes forget that he no longer had to worry about Izaya's stupid schemes, and after a long, uneventful day, he would return home, and everything would just feel strangely wrong. It was as if he was waiting for something to happen, but nothing ever did.

Of course things would be a bit more stale without Izaya around, Shizuo had told himself. But, that was a good thing— all Izaya ever did was cause trouble for him and the people around him. Yes, it was much better that he was gone. And so, with this mantra firmly in mind, Shizuo had gone on with his life, and had been rather startled when he found himself beginning to question the meaning behind the things he did. Everything just seemed so tedious— why did he have to do any of it?

Shizuo hadn't even realized that he wasn't happy until Celty had come by to 'talk' to him. But he wasn't any happier once he had realized it was because of Izaya. Even from beyond the grave, Orihara Izaya was still somehow making him miserable.

The following winter had to be one of the coldest winters in Japan. It was true that Shizuo had accidentally broken his thermostat on Christmas Day, when he had received a mysterious package in the mail containing a very familiar flickblade. It was apparently in Izaya's will for the blade to be mailed to him on that day, and a sheaf of legal documents had been included for Shizuo to sign. He had thrown the entire package behind him, perhaps with more force than was necessary, and by some stroke of ill fate, the blade had come loose and lodged itself into the thermostat of all things. Shizuo was not superstitious, but he could not help but utter Izaya's name along with a string of curses at his misfortune.

Spring and summer had followed quickly enough, and soon the leaves were turning orange once more. Shizuo had long come to admit that yes, perhaps he did miss Izaya, a little bit. He had been absolutely livid when he'd discovered that so much of his life revolved around Izaya in one way or another, and he had more or less destroyed an entire park when he realized that he had actually enjoyed spending his time chasing the miserable flea down. There wasn't really any point in denying it— though he did deny it, for quite some time, but that only put him in an unimaginably worse mood. He had almost been amused, to conclude that he was probably as fucked up in the head as Izaya was— that was the only possible explanation, for him to be missing Izaya, after all.

And now, a whole year had gone by. Shizuo wasn't sure how, but he had apparently spent a whole year doing things that did not involve Izaya whatsoever. Outside, the sun had just set, and the far edge of the sky was turning a dark cobalt blue. As early as it was in the night, Shizuo figured it was a good time as any to have a glass of whiskey, or two, or three. He had been doing a fairly good job of staying away from alcohol for the past few months, but today was... special.

He had bothered to grab a few chunks of ice and a clean glass, but minutes later he discarded them in favour of drinking straight from the bottle. It was already damn cold in the dingy apartment, and Shizuo shuffled over to his squashy sofa, pulling a blanket over himself as he leaned back in his seat. He lit up a cigarette and watched in silence as the sky grew ever darker. Brooding was never of any use to anyone, he knew, but on that day he simply couldn't bring himself to leave the house to do anything, save for a quick run in the afternoon to the convenience store for another pack of cigarettes. Everywhere he looked, everything and everyone just seemed so normal, when it was really anything but.

Celty had sent him a few texts, asking if he wanted to go out with her and Shinra that night. He declined as politely as he could ("No."), which only earned him several phone calls from Shinra, none of which he picked up. After tiredly setting his phone to silent, he slid it onto the coffee table face-down in between two ashtrays, and watched with mild satisfaction as a faint glow emanated from below it every now and then.

Vaguely, Shizuo knew that he was letting his life go to shit. He knew he ought to know better. There were still people he cared for (well... sort of), still things he enjoyed doing (again... sort of). It was just that it was all more trouble than any of it was worth. Huffing out a cloud of smoke, Shizuo glared at his distorted reflection in the bottle. What was he even doing anymore? When tomorrow came, would anything change? Would the next year be any different? Would things... ever be normal again?

"... Damn you, Izaya," Shizuo growled, his voice sounding rough even to himself. He took another swig of whiskey, and the hot burn of the alcohol did nothing at all to soothe his throat, but it was still comforting in a way which Shizuo knew it really shouldn't be.

People would always come to accept whatever misfortunes came their way. Such was human nature; as horrible as anything seemed to be, one day, it would always appear less so. Shizuo suspected this was a lie. There was absolutely nothing that would make the next day less tedious, less dull, or less vacant than the one before. Perhaps, something a little out of the ordinary might occur, as was often the case in Ikebukuro, but it would never be anything... truly worthwhile. There would never be anyone like Izaya to get in his way, to make things unnecessarily difficult, to give him unwanted headaches, unneeded things to do. Shizuo decided he must not be sane, to miss such things. There was nothing inherently desirable about any of that.

And yet...

Shizuo sighed slowly, bringing another cigarette to his lips. Above him, the lights flickered for a few seconds before turning off entirely, leaving him in murky darkness. Shizuo mumbled a few curses under his breath, but didn't get up to turn on the nearby table lamp. It was probably a power outage; he had just changed the ceiling's lightbulb a few weeks ago. Slightly annoyed, Shizuo fumbled with his lighter, seeing small sparks fly from the end but not producing any flame. Shizuo tossed the plastic lighter onto the coffee table impatiently, and blindly reached a hand out for the matchbox he usually kept lying around for such situations. Unfortunately, the matchbox ended up being behind an ashtray, which Shizuo clumsily knocked over onto the floor. His movements were already wobbly and imprecise from the amount of alcohol he'd had, but Shizuo didn't care; he'd clean it up in the morning. Maybe.

His frustration grew as he continued to break matches as he struck them against the side of the box, and Shizuo was so overjoyed when he finally was able to light one that he didn't immediately notice the presence of another person in the room. But his gaze inevitably slid up from the match to the figure standing across the room, clearly visible in the light that the flickering flame provided. The cigarette slipped and fell from his open lips, and only the pain from the flame reaching his fingertips snapped Shizuo back to reality. He dropped the match, which had burned up entirely, and quickly scrambled to light another. He broke several more matches in his haste before he gave up and got to his feet, stumbling around the coffee table. The streetlamps and stars outside provided barely enough light for Shizuo to see the figure if he squinted, but he would have recognized that silhouette anywhere.

It was, very obviously, Orihara Izaya.

Shizuo was fairly certain he was hallucinating, which was suspicious, seeing as he'd only had some alcohol and cigarettes. He swayed a little where he stood, a few feet away from where Izaya appeared to be. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but Izaya seemed to be staring at something in the distance, and he was so eerily still that he may as well have been a paper cut-out. Shizuo took an uneasy step towards the other man, who didn't react in the slightest. It was a very strange thing to be hallucinating, Shizuo thought; surely he would have imagined Izaya taunting him, or Izaya attacking him with his stupid knife, or Izaya being otherwise annoying. Not simply standing there, with a hollow, almost doll-like expression. It was more than a little creepy.

Taking another two steps to stand right in front of the image, Shizuo squinted, then glared directly at Izaya. There was no response. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it, feeling rather embarrassed for wanting to speak to what he already knew was a mere hallucination. Clenching a hand into a fist, Shizuo drew back to throw a punch, which he figured would at least be satisfying; he hesitated at the last moment, however. What would happen if he tried to punch through something that wasn't really there? Would his mind realize that he was hallucinating?

More importantly, was this really a hallucination? Shizuo wanted to smack himself for even thinking such a thing, but it was difficult not to. Aside from the fact that he was not moving and possibly not even breathing, Izaya seemed so, so impossibly real. Tentatively, Shizuo reached forward with his fingers shakily outstretched, stopping just short of Izaya's cheek. His hand hovered there hesitantly for quite some time, before he leaned just a little farther forward, and felt his fingertips make contact with something solid. Shizuo's eyes widened, and he stood there, frozen in shock, his mind scrambling to try and put together a coherent thought. Were hallucinations tangible? Did this mean this wasn't a hallucination?

He dared to brush the pad of his thumb across Izaya's cheekbone, and though Izaya's skin felt a little cold, it was definitely real. What was happening...?

... Was it... his spirit? Did spirits even have tangible forms? Shizuo stared. Spirits didn't exist! What the hell! He looked into Izaya's dark crimson eyes carefully, scrutinizing him for some sort of... indication that this was... a dream, or something. At any moment now, something strange and dreamlike would happen. Yes, that must be it.

Izaya, who had appeared to be gazing at something far in the distance the entire time, suddenly focused his eyes on Shizuo. Shizuo blinked. Izaya blinked as well, and his expression changed ever so slightly, quickly shifting from one of confusion to one of vague irritation.

"Shizu-chan... what are you doing?" Izaya said slowly, his voice completely deadpan. Shizuo immediately drew his hand back, as if burned. Izaya looked at him levelly, and Shizuo drew in a sharp breath. His mind was still struggling to decide if this was a dream, or a hallucination, or something else entirely.

After several long moments, Shizuo finally managed to murmur, "...You can talk?"

Izaya rolled his eyes condescendingly, and crossed his arms, sighing, "Has your tiny brain finally stopped functioning? What kind of question is that?"

Shizuo was speechless. Was this really Izaya? What was he doing here? Was he... alive? There were so many questions racing through Shizuo's mind, and the most urgent one of all was, what should he even _do_? Shizuo watched wordlessly as Izaya stuffed his hands into his pockets and glanced around the room, a small frown of distaste forming when his gaze fell upon the empty bottles and dirty ashtrays strewn about.

There were so many things he wanted to say. "Izaya," Shizuo began slowly, and Izaya's eyes darted back up to meet his own, expressing a hint of mild surprise. Shizuo paused, supposing it was rather strange that he had called the flea by his name. But it had been a whole year since Izaya's death, and at least in his mind, Shizuo had long since stopped calling the man any names.

Looking as if he was about to say something, Shizuo's lips parted, but all the questions he had in mind came together in a jumbled mess, and after another long pause, he let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Giving Shizuo a hair-raisingly familiar smirk, Izaya drawled in amusement, "Shizu-chan, as much as I enjoy watching you demonstrate your utter lack of intelligence, I have to ask..." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Why the hell are we in your apartment?"

Shizuo blinked, puzzled by the seemingly random question. "Because... I live here?" He offered. Izaya did not seem satisfied.

"And why are we presently here, in your filthy place of residence...?" Izaya murmured to himself, and Shizuo shot him an irritable look. "I wasn't talking to you," Izaya snapped, then frowned slightly, looking away from the blond. "I... I don't remember what I was doing before this."

Eyes widening, Shizuo opened his mouth to ask what Izaya did remember, but Izaya cut him off cheerfully, stretching as he yawned, "Well, it doesn't matter. I'll be leaving now, bye-bye, Shizu-chan~!"

"Wait," Shizuo said quickly, as Izaya began walking towards the door. Slowly, Izaya turned on one heel until he was facing the blond again, and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Suddenly hesitant, Shizuo went silent. What should he even say in a situation like this? Izaya seemed to be himself. He seemed completely normal, and most definitely alive. Had the past year simply been a dream? No, it couldn't have been...

"I'm waiting," Izaya chimed melodically, but his tone held a threatening note.

"Um," Shizuo paused, and coughed loudly, before clearing his throat multiple times, obviously stalling. "Why... aren't you trying to kill me?" It was an honest concern, technically.

"Why?" Izaya raised an eyebrow. "Why aren't _you_ trying to kill _me_, Shizu-chan?"

"Well..." Because you're already dead? Because this isn't real? "Because... I don't want to."

Izaya snorted. "So, the heartless beast of Ikebukuro has finally discovered that violence is not the answer to everything!"

Shizuo frowned deeply. This hallucinatory Izaya certainly had some biting remarks. Still, he didn't really have any proof that this wasn't real. Perhaps this Izaya actually was some evil spirit who had come back to torment him. Shizuo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment; his head was spinning, and the alcohol in his blood was making everything even more undecipherable.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have better places to be than here." Izaya said, reaching for the doorknob. Without thinking, Shizuo lunged forward to close the distance, grabbing Izaya by the hood of his coat. Izaya whirled around, eyes flashing dangerously, and he looked as if he was about to lash out and attack, but suddenly halted, blinking in surprise. Shifting his stance, Izaya forced himself to relax, and said, patronizingly, "Shizu-chan, stealing isn't nice. Give it back."

"What?" Shizuo stared. "I didn't steal anything."

Izaya gave Shizuo an unamused look, but when Shizuo continued to stare at him, confusion evident in his eyes, he let out an irritated huff, and turned to leave without another word. Suddenly, Shizuo grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around roughly, and before Izaya could even have a moment to look displeased, Shizuo had pressed his lips against Izaya's. It was a clumsy kiss which nearly missed its mark, but it caught Izaya completely off guard nonetheless. He slipped out of Shizuo's grasp after a moment of utter shock, and stumbled backwards, stunned.

"... Um." Izaya was speechless. Shizuo had the nerve to stare unflinchingly into Izaya's eyes, and Izaya looked a little dazed. He blinked, and then looked away, coughing awkwardly. "Well then." The slightest tinge of pink covered his cheeks, though it was hardly visible in the darkness.

"Izaya, you're dead." Shizuo said bluntly. Izaya's head snapped back up, and he looked dubiously at Shizuo, who quickly clarified, "No, I mean, you've already died. You're not real. This... this isn't real."

"... Shizu-chan, how much have you had to drink?" Izaya sighed after a few tense moments, shaking his head in mocking exasperation.

"I'm not joking, Izaya," Shizuo said quietly, and the solemn quality of his tone was almost startling to Izaya. "You killed yourself exactly one year ago."

At this, Izaya's eyes grew rather large. He looked quite shaken by the accusation. "It's 2013? Then is today... October 31st?"

Shizuo nodded. Izaya's gaze drifted to the floor, and there was an unreadable glimmer in his eyes. They stood in silence for a few seconds, the reality of the situation finally becoming clear to both of them.

"I thought... it was the 30th. Of 2012." Izaya began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was planning on committing suicide... on what should have been tomorrow night."

"Why?!" Shizuo demanded hoarsely, and Izaya glanced up, startled yet again. He could clearly see the grief in those chocolate-brown eyes.

Izaya pursed his lips, and shrugged slightly. "It doesn't matter. I mean, if what you said is true, then it's already done."

"It does matter." Shizuo said simply.

Looking reluctant, Izaya put his hands back into his pockets, appearing smaller than he really was as he folded his shoulders inwards. "I suppose I might as well tell you. There just wasn't really any point. I mean, messing with people was sort of fun, for a while..." He trailed off. With a very serious expression etched across his features, he said, "But then, I got bored."

"You killed yourself because you were _bored_?" Shizuo fumed. He was furious. Wasn't Izaya supposed to be _smart_?

"Well, no, not quite." Izaya paused, and he bit back a small snicker, seemingly amused by something. "You see, Shizu-chan, it's because... in the end, I only had one toy left that I wanted to play with." He peered at Shizuo, gauging the man's reaction to his words. Shizuo watched on, silently.

Izaya smiled to himself, growing more confident, and continued, "And I always prefer to play games by my own rules. But, no matter what I did, I couldn't change the rules of this game."

Shizuo knitted his brows together in confusion. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Izaya's smile grew into a wide grin.

"In other words, Shizu-chan," Izaya said, sounding entirely too cheerful for his next words, "it's because I knew you would never, ever like me." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And I really, really like you."

Shizuo's expression of confusion slowly turned to one of horror. He stared at Izaya in disbelief, who only stared back, a challenge in his eyes. "Why did you kiss me, Shizu-chan?" He asked abruptly.

"I... um." Shizuo stuttered. His cheeks, already pink from the alcohol, flushed a deep red.

"It's because you like me too, isn't it?" Izaya remarked playfully, but his expression was malicious. "But the thought would never have even crossed your mind, if things had gone on as they always did."

"That's... not true," Shizuo mumbled without conviction. It was very, very obviously true.

"And then eventually, either you would kill me, or I would kill you," Izaya continued, his eyes glittering darkly. "And I could never kill you, Shizu-chan."

He went on before Shizuo could get a word in. "But you wouldn't have hesitated to kill me, right, Shizu-chan?" Izaya grinned. "And it would have felt so good to be rid of me forever." He paused for a long moment, as if deliberately to allow the words to sink in.

"So the only way for me to win the game..." Lifting his hands in a grand gesture, Izaya finished with a devilish smirk on his lips, "was to kill myself before you could kill me."

Shizuo stared hopelessly. Izaya was absolutely insane. And yet, it was true. All of it was true. Shizuo couldn't even begin to imagine feeling even remotely happy about Izaya's death now, but before it had actually occurred... Of course he would have been thrilled. Unquestionably overjoyed.

"And it worked, didn't it? I won," Izaya said softly, and his smile was genuine, for all the wrong reasons. Gently, he placed his hand over Shizuo's chest. "And this is my prize."

Shizuo swallowed audibly. "Izaya, I... I'm sorry." He whispered. Sorry didn't even begin to cut it, he knew. Izaya's smile only grew broader.

"Ah, don't be sorry, Shizu-chan~! There are much better things to be than sorry," Izaya said, inching closer, and Shizuo distantly noticed that Izaya's body wasn't quite as warm as it should be. But when Izaya nudged his lips against Shizuo's, Shizuo complied easily, pushing every horror-stricken thought out of his mind as he wrapped his arms around Izaya's smaller frame tightly. He pushed a slick tongue past Izaya's lips, and Izaya was surprisingly playful, kissing back with equal fervor, then nipping Shizuo's lower lip while pulling away. Shizuo growled, licking his lips and tasting blood, and stepped forward, backing Izaya up against the wooden door. He mouthed at Izaya's neck, and Izaya laughed, giving Shizuo a comically accusatory look from beneath his lashes. "Shizu-chan is drunk."

"A little," Shizuo admitted, pausing and drawing back a bit. To be honest, he was pretty far gone, but he could act reasonably sober, or so he thought. He attempted to take a step back, but Izaya kept a firm hold on him, and Shizuo looked down questioningly.

"You won't wake up thinking this was all a dream, will you?" Izaya asked, and Shizuo wasn't sure how to respond. Izaya continued, looking thoughtful, "Ah, I guess, if I spend the night here, then you'll have undeniable proof that this was real~!"

Shizuo blinked slowly, and then blushed, looking away. Izaya grinned, satisfied with Shizuo's reaction, and leaned forward to kiss him again, more roughly this time— almost desperately. A shiver of arousal ran down Shizuo's spine, and he scooped Izaya up in his arms, a small yelp of surprise escaping the other man as Shizuo carried him over to the sofa.

"Not even going to bother with the bed?" Izaya hummed, and Shizuo did not grace him with a reply, dropping him somewhat unceremoniously onto the sofa instead, and silencing him with a kiss before he could complain any more. Izaya, of course, had no complaints about this.

Crawling on top of Izaya and straddling his hips, Shizuo paused for a moment to admire him in the faint starlight. Everything about him, every detail, was as Shizuo remembered it being. There was nothing too eerie or ethereal about Izaya, no disturbing lack of pulse or breath, and his body was even rapidly warming up in arousal; but Shizuo's mind would not let him forget that there was something otherworldly about this situation. He feared to think what would happen after this, and so he chose not to think at all. It was easy not to, with Izaya's lithe body beneath him, responding eagerly to his every touch.

Izaya pulled Shizuo down for another kiss, and ran his slender hands up under Shizuo's dress shirt, trailing his fingers across the blond's chest. A muffled moan rose from Shizuo's lips as Izaya teasingly rubbed at a nipple, and Shizuo shifted to grind his erection against Izaya's, eliciting a gasp in return. Shizuo lowered a hand, fumbling to undo Izaya's belt, while Izaya continued to be incredibly distracting, placing the most maddeningly feather-light kisses along his neckline and thumbing both his nipples gently. Growling, Shizuo was determined not to let Izaya have the satisfaction of teasing him so ruthlessly, and quite literally ripped his belt in two, followed by his pants, and just for good measure, his shirt as well. Izaya snickered quietly, holding his hands up in surrender. Shizuo smirked, grabbing Izaya's wrists and pinning him down.

"Okay, okay, you win, Shizu-chan," Izaya laughed, blushing when Shizuo looked down hungrily at the expanse of creamy skin now exposed before him. Izaya squirmed a little when Shizuo lowered himself to run his tongue across a nipple, nipping at it lightly. "Shiiizu-chaaan, that's not fair, you can't be a tease too, otherwise we'll never get anywhere—" Izaya began, but Shizuo had moved on, and was mouthing at his erection through his boxers. Groaning, Izaya bucked his hips upwards at the pressure, and Shizuo drew back almost immediately. He released Izaya's wrists in favour of removing his boxers, and Izaya immediately went to work undoing Shizuo's dress shirt and pants.

They both finished undressing each other at the same time, which confused Shizuo, because what the hell, he still had all of his clothes on just a moment ago. Izaya merely gave him a quick grin, before kissing him deeply, his hands eagerly roaming over Shizuo's bare skin. It was a little chilly in the room, and Shizuo pulled the small blanket over them, gasping when Izaya boldly began stroking him. He wrapped his hand around Izaya's wrist, pulling it away, much to Izaya's surprise, but then took both their erections in hand and gave a firm squeeze. Izaya hummed in pleasure into Shizuo's mouth, thrusting his hips in rhythm with Shizuo's movements.

"Mm, Izaya, can I—" Shizuo moaned, panting lightly, and Izaya gave a quick nod; however, Shizuo paused, frowning lightly, and Izaya stared questioningly into half-lidded mocha eyes. Shizuo blushed, and quietly said, "I don't have any, um, lubricant..."

"Ahah, Shizu-chan is so cute!" Izaya grinned. He shifted and squirmed, much to Shizuo's confusion, until he managed to roll them both over, so that he was lying on top of the blond. "Give me your hand," He instructed, and Shizuo complied, stifling a moan as Izaya took his index and middle fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking at them obscenely. It was surprisingly erotic, and Shizuo immediately wished it was _something else_ Izaya had his lips around; Izaya caught Shizuo's tormented look, and in a most generous act of charity, pulled Shizuo's saliva-slicked fingers from his lips, and bent down to take his erection into his mouth instead. Shizuo groaned in pleasure, thrusting into that wet heat and placing a hand on Izaya's head, and Izaya shot him an annoyed look, pulling back.

"Ah, sorry," Shizuo murmured, looking a little dazed; he had forgotten that his hand was wet with saliva. Izaya rolled his eyes, and licked wet trails up his own fingers.

"I will forgive you this one time, for your incompetence, Shizu-chan~" Izaya replied teasingly, and Shizuo was about to shoot back a clever reply (or so he preferred to think), but Izaya had taken him back into the perfect, tight heat of his mouth. At the same time, Izaya had slid a finger, then two, into himself, and was moaning wantonly against Shizuo's erection; the sensation and sight combined were practically enough to drive Shizuo to climax right then and there, and Izaya must have known this, because his ministrations only slowed as he proceeded. It was absolutely maddening, and a low rumble of impatience escaped Shizuo's lips. Izaya gazed upwards at Shizuo, somehow able to look smug despite the incredibly compromising position he was in.

An eternity later, Izaya finally pulled away, and Shizuo immediately grabbed him and flipped him onto his back. Izaya grinned as Shizuo positioned himself, and said in that sickeningly sweet tone of his, "Aah, Shizu-chan, please be gentle with me~"

"Like hell," Shizuo mumbled, thrusting into Izaya's slick entrance with one quick motion. Izaya hissed in pleasure, arching upwards, and Shizuo closed his eyes in bliss. They picked up pace quickly, neither of them far from climax. Shizuo was panting hard as they rutted, his eyes squeezed shut, and Izaya leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips, flicking his tongue against Shizuo's briefly. Shizuo gasped, his eyes snapping wide open, and the edges of his visions blurred white as he came hard, Izaya following soon afterwards.

Shizuo collapsed, utterly spent, and lay draped over Izaya, his stomach sticky with semen, and the warmth of climax flooding over him in soft waves. As his heartrate finally slowed to a reasonable pace, he pulled out, but did not bother to move away just yet. Izaya's expression was more peaceful than Shizuo had ever recalled it being. He watched quietly and contentedly, before Izaya's calm gaze began to grow annoyed.

"Get off, you're crushing me," Izaya whined, and Shizuo snorted, but obliged, and rolled off of him. Squished together on the small, lumpy sofa, Shizuo wrapped the small blanket around them tightly to trap what little warmth they had, and began to drift off to sleep. Dawn was already approaching, and Shizuo was more than exhausted.

Izaya brushed a hand through Shizuo's hair gently, earning an irritated mumble from Shizuo, who cracked an eye open to glare sleepily at Izaya. He blinked, startled, when he saw that Izaya's skin was so pale that it was almost translucent. In fact, it actually was translucent. Izaya frowned, examining his own hand, and neither of them said a word. A small, bitter smile spread across Izaya's lips, as each ray of sunlight that entered the room seemed to wash the colour from him a little more. Shizuo's eyes widened as he began to realize what was happening, and he clutched at Izaya's hand— it was still solid, but Izaya gave a quiet, defeated sigh.

"Maybe I'll see you next year, ne, Shizu-chan?" Izaya murmured, and Shizuo looked at him helplessly, a hint of panic in his eyes. Izaya leaned his forehead against Shizuo's. "Close your eyes, okay?"

"No." Shizuo glared fiercely at him. Izaya rolled his eyes, but Shizuo's intense gaze didn't falter. "Izaya," he whispered, and Izaya watched him with a strange smile.

"Shizuo," Izaya replied, and though his voice was faint, almost like an echo, there was no hollow quality to it; Izaya's voice was brimming with contentedness. His smile grew, and Shizuo could tell that it was not forced or fake at all. There was no ulterior motive, no hidden meaning behind meanings. Izaya was simply happy. "You love me," he murmured, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Shizuo swallowed, and with each passing moment, Izaya's form grew fainter and fainter. Shizuo felt something in his chest wrench terribly inside of him, twisting and coiling uncomfortably. "You... loved me too." Shizuo murmured back, but the words did nothing to soothe the ache inside of him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

When he next opened them, he was alone on the couch, and the digital clock on the table read just a little past noon. His head was pounding and he felt a wave of nausea rise with him as he sat up. He stared blankly at the floor, at the very spot where Izaya had appeared to materialize the night before. His eyes drifted to the overturned ashtray by his feet, the broken matches, the discarded cigarette; his clothes lay at his feet, but Izaya's were nowhere to be seen.

Shizuo's heart did flip flops inside of him, and it made his nausea ten times worse. He quickly ran to the bathroom, vomiting whiskey and bile, and when he was finally finished retching, he stumbled into the shower, turning the temperature of the water all the way up. He recalled with impossible detail each moment of the night before, but there was no reason to believe any of it was real at all. Shizuo leaned against the wet tiled wall, lost in his thoughts until the water began to turn cold. He wearily wrapped a towel around himself and went back into the living room, almost expecting to see Izaya lying on the couch, waiting for him.

But of course, there was no one there.

"God damn it, Izaya, where's my proof?" Shizuo murmured, his voice more pained than angry. "Where's my fucking proof?"

From behind him, a blade whizzed by, grazing his bare shoulder and cutting deeply enough to draw blood. It lodged itself in the wall above the sofa, and Shizuo whipped around, but the hallway was empty. The thermostat, where the blade had remained since last Christmas, was otherwise untouched. Shizuo blinked, smirking slowly, and went to examine the wall where the knife had struck.

"For the record, I didn't fucking steal this, you gave it to me," Shizuo said in annoyance, wrenching the flickblade out of the wall. He looked at it fondly, flicking it shut and tossing it onto the table, unable to keep the grin off his face when it hovered just above the surface of an ashtray it was about to land in. "God, I should have known it was your fault that my fucking thermostat broke! Fuck you, Izaya."

His cellphone flipped open, and a message rapidly appeared on the screen: 'That wasn't me! I wasn't even conscious until last night! But, I'll take you up on your offer.'

Shizuo pinched the bridge of his nose, going into his bedroom to change, and was not surprised in the slightest when the door closed behind him of its own accord. He glared at the phone floating along behind him, but he could not suppress the swell of relief within him, and quickly turned to face his closet, so as to hide his giddy expression.

"How are you even doing this?" Shizuo grumbled while searching for something clean to wear, and was suddenly pushed into the closet, the door sliding shut behind him. It was an incredibly cramped space, and Shizuo was just barely able to turn his head to see Izaya pressed up against him, illuminated in the faint glow of the cellphone's light. His eyes widened, and Izaya gave him a wide grin.

"Ah, can you see me now? I assume you can hear me, too?" Izaya chimed, and Shizuo nodded once, still stunned. "Ooh, then this must mean I become undetectable in sunlight, how scary! Shizu-chan, are you scared~?"

Shizuo finally managed to twist himself around, and froze when he saw that Izaya wasn't wearing any clothing at all. Izaya peered at him for a moment, and had to suppress a laugh when Shizuo crushed his lips against his own. The cellphone's backlight went off as it tumbled to the floor, shrouding them in darkness, and Izaya smiled into the kiss, certain that Shizuo was smiling, too.


End file.
